


ask me (the answer is you, always)

by chalantness



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/pseuds/chalantness
Summary: “Really?” Finn laughs, grinning wide, way too wide, and Poe would like to say he’d prefer Finn amused rather than annoyed, but he doesn’t really appreciate how much his best friend seems to revel in how much he wants to know. “We’re still on that?”“Yes, we’re still on that.”
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 9
Kudos: 207
Collections: Poe_Rey





	ask me (the answer is you, always)

**Author's Note:**

> At first I wrote this to provide an "answer" to what Finn wanted to tell Rey, but I kind of liked that there wasn't one. So. Now this is just fluff based on the theme of questions.

Poe’s not—he doesn’t want to be jealous of this, of them, because that’s a harsh sentiment to have toward two people who have become a little more important to him than _breathing_ now, somehow. He was always prepared to give his life (you don’t live during wartime, don’t _fight_ in that war, without that unspoken expectation) but for Finn and Rey, it would be different. It would mean _more_ , giving his life to save two people whose own existence has kind of become essential to his survival. So, he’s _not_ jealous. He’s not. They’ve known each other a little longer, went through a little more together before Poe came into the picture, and he’s glad they had each other. He’s glad they’re close.

They’re allowed their secrets, and Poe’s just—

He’s _curious_ , okay? Because Finn doesn’t _do_ secrets, can’t keep one to save his life, Poe’s sure, just as he’s sure that Rey wouldn’t be able to, either. He can read every little flicker of emotion that passes through her eyes, even if she tries her hardest to hide it or distract him by bickering. Because he knows that’s what she does, sometimes. Focus on something insignificant (even though, okay, _now_ that it’s in the past, the _Falcon_ catching on fire isn’t a matter to be flippant about, he’ll give her that) to redirect him from her and the turmoil he knows had been growing inside of her. He could feel her restlessness, her uncertainty, her doubt, and it broke his heart a little more each day, watching her pull away, giving her space. If it wasn’t for the fact that she relented when it came to BB-8 trailing her around, Poe wouldn’t have lasted nearly as long with keeping away.

But, yeah. Curiosity. That’s all this is, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s said that to himself, in his head, or to Finn as he tries to broach to subject of what Finn would need to tell Rey in their last supposed moments together that he couldn’t also tell Poe right before they were going to be executed.

“Really?” Finn laughs, grinning wide, way too wide, and Poe would like to say he’d prefer Finn amused rather than annoyed, but he doesn’t really appreciate how much his best friend seems to revel in how much he wants to know. “We’re still on that?”

“Yes, we’re still on that,” Poe counters, half-laughing, because even _he_ doesn’t know why he’s become so fixated on this one thing.

“Why is this so important to you?” Finn asks, still grinning, eyes glinting like he already has the answer to his question, and it’s different. Definitely _different_ , because Poe is the one out of the three of them that’s good at this, reading cues and just _knowing_ things that Finn and Rey may not always get, since one of them was a stormtrooper from birth, basically, and the other raised herself on a desert planet. So, the look Finn’s got on (that patient, _knowing_ look) is one Poe’s used to giving but not so used to receiving.

Poe shrugs, maybe forcing a little more nonchalance in the gesture as he catches sight of Rey and BB-8 coming back over the horizon through the glass of the cockpit.

“Maybe I don’t like feeling left out?” Poe says, and yes, he’s used this one before, and Finn laughed at it the first time the same way he does now.

“Maybe,” Finn echoes dryly. “You know, you look like BB-8 when he gets all excited to see Rey,” Finn points out, gesturing to how Poe is now sitting up in his seat, leaning forward, as if Rey’s very presence draws him in. And it _does_. She’s got her own damn gravity and he’s stuck in her orbit, for sure, hoping he’ll never shake loose.

“I’m not—” Poe scoffs, sputters, and then _laughs_ , shaking his head, because this is ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous. “I’m _not_.”

“Okay,” Finn laughs, too, though it doesn’t sound quite as manic as Poe’s as he gets from the co-pilot seat, still aiming that grin at Poe. He pauses, just for a second, like maybe he’s considering saying something, but then he laughs again and shakes his head. “Okay,” he repeats, moving to leave the cockpit.

“Wait,” Poe says, jumping out of the seat, “you’re really never going to tell me?”

“Not today,” Finn calls over his shoulder, sounding _amused_ , and Poe exhales a sigh, hands on his hips, head dipping down with a shake of his own as he wonders why things felt clearer, made more sense, when there was a war to be fought.

Then he catches sight of Rey and BB-8 through the glass again, closer now, close enough that he can see a flash of her white teeth as she laughs, loud and bright and with her whole body. Everything about Rey is like that—loud and bright and uninhibited—and Poe can practically hear the sound of it in his ears as he watches her shoulders shake, can practically see the slight flush she gets on her cheeks when she’s happy. He can practically hear BB-8 and his happy chirps, too, and okay, maybe he _is_ a little bit like his droid when it comes to Rey, because BB-8 is downright giddy as he rolls in circles around Rey, kicking up sand, probably getting it in her hair and stuck in his bolts. And Poe?

Maybe he _is_ starting to understand what Finn means as he watches Rey lift her head up toward the _Falcon_ , looking right at him, like she’d know he was standing there and waiting and watching her even without the Force. She throws her arms up in adoring exasperation as BB-8 circles and circles her, and Poe laughs in the quiet of the cockpit.

He doesn’t really know what comes next, what comes _after_ a war, but he knows that whatever it is, he wants Rey there, and he knows BB-8 does, too, and he thinks maybe, _just maybe_ , he knows what her answer will be if he asks if she wants that, too.

* * *

What comes _after_ a war, Poe learns, may not be as urgent nor as dire as the war itself, but it’s just as busy.

There’s rebuilding and reforming alliances and repairing entire cities and planets and _galaxies_ , it seems, because there was no inch of the universe that was left untouched from this kind of a war. The dark kind that spanned generations, that felt like static in the air, making everyone anxious and wary, never knowing what would come next and whose lives would be devastated in the aftermath. It’s a hard fear to let go of, and it’s why the Resistance still carries on together, picking up the pieces and trying to make something new and hopefully _better_ , or just as good, as what had been there before. Maybe it feels like it should be the short end of the stick, still working just as hard after spending his whole life fighting, retreating, regrouping, but he knows not a single one of them thinks of it that way. It’s different, now that there isn’t a clock ticking down.

It’s _fulfilling_ , and yeah, they’re all still running around, still working hard, but they can slow down when they want to. They can savor and they can just _be_ , without the fear of being discovered, without needing to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

Poe doubts he’d enjoy _slow_ , anyway. One day, maybe. They all get there, but he was born chasing after stars, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

Especially not when it comes to Rey.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Poe laughs, his arms open in an instant, catching Rey by her waist as she nearly shoots right past him, or maybe she was shooting right _toward_ him as she rounded the corner, considering he’s like three steps from his door and she seemed pretty intent on that very direction. He hears the telltale whirl as BB-8 comes flying around the corner, too, just nearly catching himself before he could bounce against the wall, beeping excitedly, though he probably has no idea why Rey is even in a rush to begin with. He just soaks up her energy the same way Poe does, like a spark of her happiness is all they need for their own to catch fire, and, yeah. _Yeah_. He knows, okay?

He knows.

“Hey,” he says, softer this time, his chest squeezing as he catches sight of the tears dotting her eyelashes, because he’ll always hate it a little bit, seeing those tears in her eyes, even though this time she’s smiling widely, wider than he’s seen in a while. “What’re these for?” he asks, brushing at the corner of her eyes with his thumbs.

She’s clutching at his shirt, wrinkling it in her grip, and one of her fingers brushes over the thin chain holding his mother’s ring as she breathes out, “I talked to Leia.”

He jerks back, just a little, taking her with him since he’s still kind of just holding her face in his hands, but she doesn’t startle, just sways with him out of instinct, moving as he moves. “You—” He blinks once, twice, jerking his head in a shake, more out of habit, he thinks, than disbelief. Rey’s smile grows brighter, eyes glittering, and despite his surprise stunning him into speechlessness (which is a surprise all in itself, if he’s being honest) he still brushes his thumb over her cheek to catch the tear that rolls down. She practically hums in excitement, watching his reaction ripple through his expression, starting with surprise, shifting into awe, then settling into elation. “You did? You saw her?”

Rey licks her bottom lip as she nods, and then a laugh bursts from her lips, breathy and happy. “I wish _you_ could _see_ her,” she whispers, and she doesn’t sound _sad_ , exactly, and he doesn’t want her to be. He’ll _always_ miss Leia, but he had her his whole life. He’s glad Rey at least gets to have her like _this_ , since their time was so short together.

“I know, but it’s alright, sweetheart,” he says, the endearment rolling off of his tongue with such ease that he doesn’t really know that it’s there, that it was _always_ there in his head, in his _heart_ , until just now. Rey blinks, catching it, too, and her expression brightens even more, if possible.

(And he doesn’t really know _how_ it’s possible. How he can have that effect on her, how he’s the one made of stars and sunshine in her eyes, when it’s always been the other way around.)

He swallows, lightly, letting out a soft, soft laugh, and Rey lets out one of her own, gaze dropping from his, stuttering on his lips before dropping to the dip of his shirt, and it takes all he has not to quiver at her touch as she rubs the soft pad of her thumb over the thin chain of his necklace, electricity racing across his skin at the touch. The motion is idle and small, almost absent, something he should barely be able to feel, but _oh_ , does he feel it all the way down to his toes, and he sucks in a breath and holds it in his chest as his heart skips almost at lightspeed against his ribcage. She feels it, too, her eyes lifting back up to his. Her smile softens, but it becomes— _more_. It becomes intimate.

It becomes _his_.

“What did you and the General talk about?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, not daring to even _blink_ , that’s how hard he wants to hold onto this and this moment and _them_ in this moment.

“Life,” she breathes out, just as quietly, and she sounds just as breathless as he feels. “About what comes next, for me. And for you.”

He’s grinning, grinning so widely that it almost hurts, but nothing, _nothing_ about Rey and the way she makes him feel will ever hurt. “Making plans for my future, huh?”

“ _Our_ future,” she corrects in a rush, like she can’t wait a second longer to get the words out, “and before you give me grief, I would ask you first.” She blinks, then blinks again, and because Rey is still _Rey_ , a girl who grew up all on her own, a girl who was left, there’s a flicker of hesitation. Of worry. “Would you—would you say yes?”

“I would.” He rubs his thumb across the apple of her cheek, delighting in the way it flushes warmly under his touch. “Would _you_ say yes?”

“To what?”

She blinks, gazing up at him from under those long, long eyelashes, and he doesn’t know how he hasn’t asked her this sooner, how he held out for this long. “To kiss you,” he says, and a giggle bursts from her lips, and it sounds like relief, like a star being born. It sounds like his whole damn future. “If I asked to kiss you, would you say yes?”

Her eyes glint, and for a fleeting second, he thinks she’s going to be playful, make him beg, and he’d gladly do it. Make a damn fool of himself for the entire galaxy to see, because this woman brings him to his knees without even trying, but that spark is gone in a second, catching fire into something hotter and brighter and far more consuming. She hesitates, but only for a moment, and though the urgency of her touch has him swaying back, the grip on his shirt has his stomach flipping her lips are soft against his. Soft and pliant and sweet, and honestly, if BB-8 hadn’t interrupted them with a squealed beep only a few seconds later, making them break apart in laughter as his head swivels from Rey to Poe to Rey before he starts whirling back and forth, chirping almost incoherently in excitement, Poe doesn’t know if he’d _ever_ stop kissing Rey Skywalker.

* * *

It’s not their first time, or their fourth, or even their _fortieth_ , but it’s their first time _here_ , in the bed he’d slept in as a child, in the home his parents had built for themselves when they wanted to start their life together, and it’s—

It’s a little _more_ than all the times before, and not just because of where they are.

His childhood bed doesn’t really fit two people sleeping side by side, but like _this_ , with their bodies fitting together, his body hovering over hers, moving with hers, it fits them just fine. It fits them damn perfectly, he thinks, as Rey’s legs tighten around his hips and her hands slip under his sleep shirt, tracing up the muscles and the scars of his back before she digs her nails in and arches her neck and breathes his name into the quiet of the room. And they _have_ to be quiet, because Finn and Rose and Chewie are in their own rooms just across the hallway, and so is his own damn father, and it took _so much_ convincing to get BB-8 and D-O to let Rey and Poe put a door between them that he’s not about to let that go to waste by them bursting inside in alarm the second they hear Rey cry out. Even though she looks like she really, really wants to as he moves faster and deeper, and the moment her lips part, he catches her sounds in a kiss, groaning a little himself as he feels the press of his mother’s ring trapped between their bodies.

He should wait. He should really wait for later, or at least _after_ , when she’s far more aware of herself and him and what he’s about to ask her.

But the words are right there and have been for weeks now and he knows there’s no stopping them. Not now. Not a second longer.

“Marry me?” he murmurs against her lips, and he feels her breath hitch, feels her entire body halt in surprise, but only for a fleeting moment, because _he_ doesn’t stop moving at all, and she’s there, _right there_ , and she digs her nails in hard as she tips over the edge.

He follows right after her, just like always, and he presses his face against her neck and groans as quietly as he can possibly manage as her body trembles beneath his.

She always gets sated and sleepy after, always seconds away from passing out in his arms, just the way he loves it—but he’s not surprised that tonight, her eyes are wide and glittering in the moonlight pouring in from the windows, a small smile trembling on her lips, growing wider and wider as she holds his gaze, her answer as bright as the stars.

(He thought it’d feel like something was missing, not wearing the necklace anymore, and maybe it does for a few seconds, when he wakes up alone in his childhood bed.

But then he heads downstairs to find Rey sitting at the kitchen table, smiling widely and talking softly with his dad, his mother’s ring in its place on her finger, and, yeah. It doesn’t feel like anything is missing at all.)

* * *

He finds her sitting under the tree, which he knows is her favorite spot on all of Yavin IV, but he also knows she has a tendency to go to it when she’s feeling restless. When something is bothering her.

She’s better about coming to him and not hiding so much when something is distracting her, but also, he thinks it’s just part of her to want to retreat into her own head sometimes, and that doesn’t mean she doesn’t trust him or doesn’t want him to help. Sometimes he waits longer than others before going to her, and sometimes she’ll come to him first, all on her own, having already shaken away whatever had been bothering her, or seeking him for comfort or guidance or both. Usually both. She values his input and his opinions, and yeah, there are a lot of things he simply can’t relate to, has no experience with, but she doesn’t see his thoughts on those things as being any less than her own because of that. She’s his teammate, his co-pilot, his other half, and he’s hers, and maybe he’d felt _off_ about it before, when she would retreat. But not anymore.

He knows her heart like his own. There’s nowhere she can run where he won’t follow, even if it’s the deepest, darkest parts of her that still linger in her own mind.

But as he walks over to the large tree, Rey turns her head from where BB-8 and D-O are rolling after each other a little further into the field, and there’s a small, content smile on her face as she shifts, turning her body toward his as he settles in beside her. He hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her close, fitting her between his legs, his body curling around hers, and he dips his head to kiss her shoulder through the thin material of her wrap, then up to her cheek, her temple. “Something on your mind, sunshine?”

“A lot of things,” she admits with a chuckle, leaning back against him. “But, mostly us. Our future. Our family.” Her voice halts with that last word, gets softer, and she feels her body tense ever so slightly, until he’s stroking his hand down her arm and she’s melting into him all over again. “I think I had a…a _vision._ ”

He thinks he knows what this is about, even before she’s turning to him, looking at him with just a little bit of hesitation, maybe even a little bit of fear, and there’s a tug in his chest that draws him close, closer, his lips over hers. “Did this vision scare you?” he asks, pulling back just enough to smile at her, encouraging her. Rey doesn’t know how to be anything except open, especially with him, but he knows why she might be a little less open about this and what he’s pretty sure they’re talking right now. She rubs her lips together, twisting a little, reaching up to touch his cheek, and he curls his fingers over hers, rubbing his thumb over his mother’s ring on her finger. “It’s okay if it did, Rey.”

“It didn’t,” she says on an exhale, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, “but, maybe it did, a little.” She strokes at his cheek. “We never talked about kids.”

“We didn’t, and we should have,” he agrees, turning his head to kiss her palm. “But, to me, it was also okay that we didn’t talk about it. Because I want _you_ , and whatever _you_ want, sunshine. You can be as worried as you want about being a mother, because of who you come from,” he says, and, despite his words, despite bringing up the one thing about Rey Skywalker that can make his bold, beautiful, brave girl tremble ever so slightly, she smiles a small smile, and he knows it’s because she loves that he reads her so easily. He doesn’t need the Force to know all there is to know about this woman. He just needs _her_. “We could be the best parents to the two most hyper droids in the galaxy,” he says, and she laughs, “or we could have two droids and twelve kids to chase after. I’d love _any_ family of ours, sweetheart, no matter what, because it will be _ours_.”

Rey’s smile grows wider, and wider, cheeks flushing, before she wrinkles her nose cutely at him. “I’d _never_ agree to twelve kids, we can be certain of that.”

“No?” He quirks an eyebrow, bringing her hand down with his, over her stomach, as he grins at her. “But we’d have a lot of fun making them.”

She giggles, shaking her head, but then they hear chirping and beeping and whirring as BB-8 and D-O have finally taken notice of Poe, both of them rolling excitedly toward where Poe and Rey are settled, and laughs softly as he starts to stand, lifting Rey up with him. She glances over her shoulder, smiling, and he leans in to kiss her lips, soft and short and sweet, pulling away just as their two droids have reached them, eager to start the day together. For now, their conversation will have to wait, but Poe is fine with it.

He doesn’t need an answer. He just needs Rey.

**Author's Note:**

> (ps. It's my favorite domestic trope in the world, thinking of my ships having kids together! But as someone who personally, in real life, doesn't want to have kids, I wanted to include that idea for a change.)


End file.
